


I hate you.

by AnAngryRat



Series: I hate you [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-03
Updated: 2013-09-03
Packaged: 2017-12-25 12:14:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/952969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnAngryRat/pseuds/AnAngryRat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is bound to Derek's wrist with magical string that hates him. It's super.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I hate you.

**Author's Note:**

> Created before season three. Enjoy.

“I hate you.”  
“I had no choice.”  
“I. Hate. You.”  
“You saw the way she was coming at us.”  
“Didn’t mean you had to shove your hand through her!”  
“There was no other way…”  
“To beat the crap out of her without, I don’t know, KILLING HER!”  
Derek shrugs in response and Stiles loses it. He’s had enough of this shit. He had been pushed far enough being dragged out of bed at god-awful a.m. only to be held hostage by a witch, all because Derek Fucking Hale needed Stiles to do a magic trick. Well, remove the anti-were-thing seal that surrounded the empty storage house that housed a witch, with enough sense to use security cameras. Yeah, it was a stupid idea in the first place to raid the castle without back up.  
Stiles forcefully kicks Derek as hard as he can in the shin.  
“I would've totally okay with you killing that thing if she hadn't magically tied us together,” Stiles yelled, kicking him again. Derek just stands his ground and glares Stiles down. Stiles rolls his eyes. That trick hadn't worked since sophomore year. Climbing through his window and staying in a dark corner of his room though, still a hundred and ten on the creeper scale.  
Derek let out a sigh and says “Can’t you just break it?”  
“I tried! Why do you think it started to burn me!?” Stiles let out an exasperated sigh and turned to leave the warehouse. And was abruptly tugged back because, oh yeah, his wrist was tied to Derek’s with a magic string that was trying to burn him alive. Fan-fucking-tastic.  
***  
Scott was standing outside looking like an abandoned puppy, which happens to be his default setting when he can’t do anything. Good to see Scott got Stiles texts, not like he was any help, but at least he was here. It’s always the thought that counts. Stiles absently kicks the anti-werewolf boundary around the warehouse letting Scott in and Derek out. He glances at the barrier and notices a small recognizable symbol under the dirt. Interesting, must investigate later: Rorschach Journal entry 1,903.  
“Are you guys, okay?” Scott asks warily. Stiles raises an eyebrow confused. Then remembers that the bracelet is currently trying to burn through his sweater, in addition he’s also in Derek’s anti-bubble of personal space.  
“Yeah, we’re just fine just gotta have Deaton look at something,” Stiles says raising his wrist to show off his rapidly burning sweater. Scott snickers, “I can break that.”  
Derek responds by rolling his eyes and Stiles just covers his face. Scott maybe his best friend but the kid is dumb; he couldn’t even detect the burning cloth with his super senses. “Scott just go. We’ll drive to Deaton’s and meet you there,” Stiles says waving him off with a hand not connected to Derek. Scott hesitates but leaves without another word. Stiles start’s walking to the car half-dragging Derek along as he pulls his keys out of his pocket. He stops abruptly at the car and Derek runs into him.  
“What’s wrong now?” Derek huffs out, impatiently.  
“I can’t drive, how are we gonna get back,” Stiles says looking at his left hand conveniently tied to Derek’s right.  
“You know I have a license too.”  
“Then why am I driving you’re wolfy ass around? Gas cost money dude,” Stiles reasons, handing Derek the keys after opening the door.  
“Not my fault you learned magic, and suddenly became a necessity,” Derek says assisting Stiles awkward crawl over the driver’s seat and into the passenger.  
“To your fucking problem-“ Stiles is cut off by the roar of the car’s engine.  
“It’s more convenient to get around in Beacon Hills in your car also you can just steal gas. I do it all the time,” Derek misdirects peeling out. Stiles mouth hangs open a moment in just horror.  
“You are seriously going to hell, for that.” Stiles finally comes up with. Derek just smirks. The bastard.  
***  
“So, basically hell might have a snow day before this thing comes off?” Stiles says looking at the tiny golden string as if it could burn under his gaze. Except it is, trying to burn him, that is. Deaton was kind enough to soak some gauze in magic stuff so that he could slip under it and it wouldn’t burn him anymore. Leaving his near third degree burn mark almost left untreated. This could not get any worse, except… Oh my god, how was he going to shower or go to the bathroom or-  
“Not exactly,” Deaton says, breaking his last train of thought with Stiles least favorite words. Next comes some ambiguous/vague explanation of how to fix the problem that really gives little to no help at all. He hears Scott on the other side of the room give an exasperated groan before Deaton starts.  
Stiles does his best not to tune out, but then “Somebody Told Me” by the Killers starts playing in the soundtrack of his mind. How can somebody look like a boyfriend and a girlfriend? What year did the song come out, ‘cause that would explain which “February, of last year-“ it meant.  
“-sex.” Deaton finishes. Aaaannnnd there went Deaton’s entire spiel. Did he just say sex? Scotts blushing. So he did mention intercourse. Why did he say sex?  
“Did you just say sex?” Stiles asks, only to be dragged out of the room by Derek and completely ignored by both Scott and Deaton.  
“Did he just say sex?” Stiles asks Derek instead, stumbling over himself to catch up to Derek who was walking at the speed of…werewolf.  
“Yes,” Derek growls, then adds, “If you had been paying attention to him you would have known why.”  
“How do you know-“  
“You were humming The Killers under your breath.”  
“Does-“  
“Yes and yes,” Derek answers turning to face him “They know.”  
“Awesome.” Stiles replies, voice dripping with sarcasm. To his surprise they are standing in front of his Jeep.  
“So,” Stiles begins, rubbing the back of his head, “gonna fill me in on what just happened?”  
Derek opens the car door and practically throws Stiles in the car.  
“No.”  
They awkwardly get into place, before Stiles talks again.  
“What the fuck dude? Why not?” Derek sighs exasperatedly and the sound grates on Stiles nerves. Asshole thinks he’s better than him.  
“Because knowing you, you’d take it the wrong way.”  
“Are going to have to have sex? We are totally gonna have to fuck aren’t we?” Derek jumps and to Stiles astonishment is blushing.  
“What the fuck? Hell no! Do you have any shame at all?! No, wait wrong question. This is why I didn’t want to tell you.”  
“Hey, it’s your fault for not telling me in the first place,” Stiles pauses, to watch the road “Where are we going?”  
“My place.” Derek says starting the car and pulling out. He drives like a street racer. How did this guy ever get his license? From there Stiles mind starts filling in the questions.  
It’s not until they have stopped that Stiles realizes that his original question wasn’t answered. Goddammit.  
***  
“So…Isaacs your favorite,” Stiles muses. Derek had been trying to converse like normal people with him for like the last two hours. The dude has zero social skills. He also has slowly been getting more and more pissed off at Stiles amusement to how awkward the topics keep getting. It’s better than television. Not that he could watch anything in the abandoned subway station.  
Derek runs a hand through his hair before rubbing his temples. Or attempting to rub his temples and instead rubbing Stiles hand all over his face. He glares angrily at the bracelet and shakes their hands in frustration. Stiles doesn’t try to hide his obnoxious laugh. Derek goes into a stern silence, before answering.  
“No, an alpha must treat all betas equally so not to cause disputes within the pack,” he pauses thinking, “but Isaac grinds on my nerves less.”  
“I will have to agree with you on that.” Derek raises an eyebrow. Stiles shrugs and says “Boyd shoves his physical strength in my face and Erica shoves her boobs in my face, Isaac’s a happy medium. Though he doesn’t try to shove his boobs in my face, but he does do the strength testing. Just less douchey.” Stiles thinks a bit then adds, “He’s nicer to Scott too.”  
“Where does Scott fall on your scale?” Derek asks. Stiles chuckles, “That’s obvious.” Derek shrugs in response. There’s a long stretch of silence calling Stiles name to break it.  
“This is about breaking the string thingy isn’t it? Because I doubt you actually would want to talk to me ever, given how you hate me.”  
Derek attempts to hide shifting uncomfortably with a shrug.  
“Dislike is a more flattering word.”  
“You are a horrible liar,” Stiles says then adds, “but I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt given that you’re not too shabby to talk too, Mr. Sourwolf.”  
“I hate that name.” Derek says doing his best to glare Stiles down. Stiles ignores him and continues.  
“Who knew two hours of the most uncomfortable casual conversation in your life would make you a better person in my eyes. Not only that you’re funny when you want to be. Why aren’t you always like this?”  
“Because you got me thrown in jail twice.”  
“I’ve also saved your life multiple times.”  
“I like to call those happy accidents.”  
“I like to call them the few times in my life I wasn’t a total failure.”  
“You’re not a failure,” Derek said his tone softening.  
“Well how do you know,” Stiles finds the strange urge to argue discomforted by Derek’s tone.  
“I’ve spent enough time at close contact with you in dangerous situations to make an executive decision on that statement.”  
Stiles goes silent for a moment, mulling over that. Trying to not put much meaning in it and failing. It meant something that someone took him seriously, especially when he is the weakest link in the werewolf world.  
“Besides that being the longest sentence I’ve ever heard you say, have you ever considered being a business man or a lawyer?” He diverts.  
“No, I prefer history and if I hadn’t dropped out of school, I would probably be teaching it.”  
“Whoa,” Stiles says failing at hiding his surprise.  
“What?”  
“Sourwo-“  
“Stop calling me that.”  
“Was actually giving details into his super secretive mind making him less of an asshole. Whoooo,” Stiles says waggling his fingers in Derek’s direction to give off a comically ghostly feel. Derek responds by pushing him off the couch they had been sitting on and in turn nearly dislocating Stiles arm.  
“Oww… I take back everything I said you’re still an asshole.”

Stiles sits straight up in the only mattress in the station at fuck all in the morning and says, “That symbol.” Derek grumbles obviously awake but not in the mood for Stiles shit. Stiles just gets up out of their makeshift bed and flounders around looking for something dragging Derek along by his arm.  
“What are you looking for,” Derek growls rubbing his eyes. They had told his dad that he was sleeping at Scotts instead of Derek’s underground lair, as Stiles liked to call it. Everything had been normal or as normal as awkwardly close and abnormal conversation could be until right the fuck now.  
“A paper and pencil because I know if I draw out that rune-symbol-thingy I saw under the barrier and then I’ll remember what it means,” Stiles says rambling, still rummaging around the place. Derek stops him with a quick tug in the opposite direction he was going. Stiles glares at him. This was important, maybe it would help stop the homicidal friendship bracelet. But Derek keeps pulling until he reaches a little crate. He reaches in and pulls out a pen and paper, and gives him the I-told-you-so look that grinds relentlessly on Stiles nerves.  
He snatches the utensils and quickly draws the symbol. He still can’t remember what it means. What was it? Think, think, think. He grabs his head with his right hand and stares at it willing it to give him answers. He doesn’t notice how Derek has gone unnaturally still next to him. He’s seen it in one of Deatons books, which one?  
“Stiles.”  
It definitely was witch related. Witches? Multiple witches. A coven! Stiles looks up at Derek grinning.  
“It’s a coven, she was part of a witch co-.” He cuts off when he notices that there are more than just them in lair. In fact it was almost totally filled wall to wall. Derek’s eyes are glowing but he isn’t moving an inch. This is bad.  
“Fuck.” Is all he is able to say before its lights out for Stiles.  
***  
"I've decided that you need to learn how cursed or the sake of our futures."  
"Stiles for the love of fucking god shut the fuck up."  
"See this is what I mean when I say learn how to curse, because right now is not the time to curse-"  
"Stiles."  
"-but when I don't know there are thirty witches that suddenly appear out of thin air 'Stiles' is not the way to-"  
"Stiles for fucks sake not now."  
"Shut up you're just proving my point, the way you should have gone was " Fuck Stiles" or "Shit" cause that would have totally caught my attention instead of just plain old 'Stiles'"  
"Is this really your greatest concern at the moment?"  
"Please tell me you also are trying not to laugh by distracting yourself."  
Stiles can almost see Derek smirk when he says, "I would but being above a giant black cauldron is a lot less escapable than in the cartoons."  
"Stupid mother fucking magic string," Stiles says trying not to squirm. They are being held over a giant pot of water. Though it wasn’t boiling which is good for them breaking out and falling. Bad for Stiles who is currently being burned alive by more magic string that they used to bind him and Derek over said water.  
"How are you doing?"  
Stiles blinks back the stars forming in front of his eyes. The string was currently singeing his skin after scorching through his T-shirt. The one on his wrist was being amplified by the one around his chest and burned through his protective layer. It. Hurts. A. Lot.  
"Passing out," Stiles huffs out, his vision going black. Derek kicks him before it happens.  
"Gonna have to stay with me if you want this to work out for the better," Derek says disguising worry with frustration.  
"You can get us out?" Derek shakes his head in response. Stiles knows he's doing it so that the two witches guarding them won't know or hear. There’s a loud creak from above them. Stiles glances up at the piece of plywood holding them up in the same empty warehouse they were in before. Yup, it was about to break under their weight. Fuck. His eyes start to cloud over again.  
Derek kicks him awake again.  
"Derek I am not staying conscious for much longer we need to get out of here now."  
Derek growls and laces his fingers through Stiles. Then the pain isn't so bad. He feels his entire body relax with the release of the pressure.  
"Are you healing me?" He feels Derek's head shake.  
"Just taking away the pain. Jesus, Stiles how were you even alive.” Stiles chuckles.  
"I'm stubborn that way."  
The plywood makes a hideous creaking noise. Derek removes his hand and wiggles a bit. Before he knows it there's a pop and Stiles is weightless. Then he blacks out before he even hits the water as the stalled out pain hits him like a speeding delivery truck of doom.  
***  
There's something tapping his face.  
"Stiles you little fucktard wake up."  
What the fuck is Derek doing here? They need to get out of the warehouse.  
"Come on Stiles. I need your sense of humor right now and your inability to shut up. I sort of enjoy it and it would be really comforting right now."  
Does this mean that Derek likes him? This sounds almost like a love confession. How cute.  
"Just wake up you spineless little prick. Right the fuck now."  
Or not. Derek sounds freaked out. He never sounds freaked out. Stiles feels the paternal need to calm him down. Which requires waking up and feeling all his burns. Fuck.  
"Dude, shut up, I know you love me already just let me go back to fantasy land," Stiles grumbles. He was trying not to be happy about the strange mutual understanding/like that had just formed.  
Derek drops Stiles on the ground and gets up. It appears his prince charming persona is no longer needed. Stiles looks around. They are alone in the warehouse, boiling pot and shit ton of witches are all gone.  
"Where are the witches?"  
"I called the pack and they got the hell out of my territory."  
"That doesn't make any sense why would they try to kill us then just leave after some intimidation."  
"They were trying to avenge their sister and take over what they thought was lone alpha territory," he pauses and shrugs, "Just had to prove them wrong."  
"Huh, you probably killed a few to get that point across, which brings the question, where is the pack?" Stiles says sitting up.  
“On their way,” he says, then adds wincing, “probably freaked the fuck out.”  
Stiles gets up and feels no pain. It occurs to him in some blank part of his mind that Derek is on the other side of the room not attached to him.  
"Where did my burns go?"  
Derek turns away from him not answering.  
"Oooookay," Stiles says moving on, "What happened to the magic string?"  
"It disappeared when you were out-"  
"-and you were admitting your undying love for my sarcasm."  
Stiles watches Derek flinch with borderline sadistic amounts of joy.  
"Yes," he answers. Stiles brushes what little dirt there is off his legs and ignores how not only half of his shirt is missing he’s only wearing soaked through batman boxers. Derek on the other hand had been sleeping in pajama pants and a long sleeve shirt. Lucky bastard.  
"So I can just assume my wounds healed when the string disappeared.” Derek looks away uncomfortable.  
"The witches helped me as an apology." Or in Derek speak ‘I threatened them and they coincided.’  
"Oh, then what's the point in getting all embarrassed then if it’s so simple?" Stiles says as he walks over to Derek to lay an arm over Derek's shoulders.  
"I would rather not say but I would not want to be that intimate with you again in the near future."  
"You licked my wounds didn't you?"  
Derek doesn't say a word, but Stiles assumes that it's a ‘yes’ and starts herding him out of the god forsaken warehouse.  
"Don't be so shy we are practically boyfriends now."  
"No," Derek says shoving him away, "we are not."  
"Yet," Stiles adds as they start heading out.  
"No."  
"Come on, you love me and my humor."  
"No I don't."  
"All we need to do is kiss then that'll make it Facebook official."  
"Stiles, shut up."  
"You looooove me," Stiles teased punching his arm.  
"I hate you."


End file.
